


Upholding Tradition

by silverlined



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlined/pseuds/silverlined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakon knows everything and Mitsunari is distinctly unamused. In which Yukimura’s brain is broken more than usual and Kanetsugu is a pervert and the apple never falls far from the tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upholding Tradition

Normally, it's Keiji who plays counsellour to the young idiots of the Toyotomi army, with equal parts sympathy, alcohol and blunt force trauma to the head but with Keiji on a short mission with Kanetsugu (pirates, apparently, from Keiji's excited cheering), it's left to Sakon to rescue Yukimura from his angst.

It was probably Mitsunari's fault, anyway.

"Something the matter?" Sakon prods at Yukimura's listless form, slumped against a shady tree in the courtyard. His spear is abandoned nearby, jabbed into the soft ground and tilting at a listless angle, much like its master.

Yukimura gives him a look of woe. "Master Sakon."

"You look troubled," Sakon says diplomatically and even more tactfully, does not say, 'has my idiotic lord been shooting his mouth off again?' Damage control is an integral part of his duties.

"It's nothing," Yukimura demurs but sighs heavily. Sakon raises an eyebrow. "Just, the anniversary..."

"My lord Shingen." Sakon's smile is bittersweet.

"It was so long ago."

"A great leader stays in his people's hearts."

If anything, Yukimura's shoulders slump even further, reducing him to little more than a small puddle of misery and Sanada-crest emblazoned yukata. "And his rivalry with Lord Uesugi was legendary, also."

"It was one of his greatest joys to have such a worthy rival," Sakon agrees, leaning against the tree and looking down cautiously.

"The Uesugi clan are certainly worthy," Yukimura says mournfully. "And I am proud to fight side by side with Lord Kanetsugu though our allegiances..."

Ah. Sakon grins and claps a hand on Yukimura's shoulder comfortingly. "Well, my lord Shingen also had a special relationship with his rivals in his youth. Let me tell you all about it."

 

Approximately three seconds after Kanetsugu dismounts from his faithful war-steed, a red headed blur comes barrelling through the castle keep and into his chest with the concussive force of a canon.

"Yukimura is in my bed," Mitsunari says, hands fisted in Kanetsugu's white battle regalia to pull their faces level.

"Congratulations," Keiji cackles from atop his horse, still pleased from doing untold bodily violence to people who actually deserved it.

"Shut up," Mitsunari says without turning to acknowledge him.

Kanetsugu tries to hold up his hands peaceably but is thwarted by the death-grip Mitsunari has on his collar, pulling their faces entirely too close for the public eye. "Then we shall be staying in your quarters tonight?"

The look of scorn Kanetsugu receives in reply is withering.

"He is in my bed," Mitsunari clearly enunciates for the less mentally gifted. "With a blanket over his head and refusing to ever come out and look at people ever again."

"Oh," Kanetsugu says, blinking. Then, "What did you say to him?"

Thirty seconds later, Keiji thoughtfully extends a hand to help Kanetsugu up from his undignified sprawl on the ground. "I hate to say it, man, but you totally deserved that."

Winded and bruised with his first injury of the day, Kanetsugu only grunts.

 

"Yukimura," Mitsunari huffs, prodding at the lump on his futon with a sock-clad toe.

"Mitsunari-dono?" the lump replies politely, resolutely not moving.

"People are starting to think I'm abusing you."

"Why would they think that?" Yukimura sounds shocked and appalled and incredibly unwilling to budge.

"Probably because if you're not out of there by the time I count to 50, I'm going to set a bomb on your head," Mitsunari says casually. The slats of his steel fan makes a satisfying noise as he taps it against his open hand, the clear bell-like chime of steel and violence.

There's a moment of silence.

"I count fast."

The silence stretches out but for the careful count of Mitsunari's breathing. And then, the sharp slide of steel on steel as he unfurls his fan.

"Well, if you insi-"

"I'm out!" Yukimura yelps, throwing off the covers. He stares, wide eyed, at Mitsunari who only looks blandly back at him, only his eyes showing from behind his unfurled fan.

"While you're welcome in my bed any time," Mitsunari says, eyes narrowed dangerously. The fan snaps shut with a metallic click. "I would prefer if you were happy to be there."

"M-Mitsunari-dono!" Yukimura stutters, eyes glued to the stubborn set of Mitsunari's jaw. "I-I'm always happy to be here but-"

"But?" Mitsunari's face is flushed, bright red across the cheekbones and he unfurls his fan again, bringing it up to hide his face like a girl at court.

Yukimura thinks a little tragically that telling Mitsunari that he's attractive when angry will probably lead to his death. He buries his face in his hands and mutters something hopefully indistinct.

Before Mitsunari can slice off his head, the screen doors slide open and Kanetsugu comes in, shutting the door behind him.

"I thought you said you didn't do anything to him?" Kanetsugu rashly sits next to Mitsunari. He shows a little self preservation when he carefully - _carefully_ \- pries the fan from Mitsunari's tightly clenched fingers and sets it to his far side.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Yukimura dives for the blankets once more.

Unfortunately, Mitsunari is faster and while Yukimura could easily overpower him in a tug of war, the repercussions would be not worth it. He settles for curling as small as he can and pretending very hard that he's not there. He commands ninja, after all - surely, he's picked up on some of their tricks.

"I didn't," Mitsunari hisses, fisting his hands in the blanket and bristling like an offended cat. "But since it's you he's hiding from, perhaps _you_ did."

"How unjust," Kanetsugu says, wry. "On my honour, I've been out all day dealing with your pirates."

"Then-" Mitsunari cuts off with a muffled squeak and Yukimura, face down on the futon, wishes he could see.

"I'm glad to be home," Kanetsugu continues after a few long moments, sounding only slightly breathless and extremely self satisfied. "Yukimura?"

"... Yes?"

"I could not say why, but I suspect that there's something wrong," Kanetsugu says, dry as bone. "Would you care to enlighten us?"

Yukimura twitches and mutters something into the futon.

"Again, please, in words understandable to humans," Kanetsugu requests politely. Mitsunari uncharacteristically says nothing at all, which makes Yukimura think about the likelihood of Kanetsugu's hands being in certain positions and blush bright red.

"Master Sakon told me about-" Yukimura mumbles, slurring the last few words unintelligibly.

"Sakon," Mitsunari repeats dourly, and then gasps, short and sharp.

"Told you an incoherent mumble?" Kanetsugu suggests, voice lazily smug.

"Told me Lord Shingen used to _have relations_ with Lord Uesugi and Lord Hojo and _I think my brain exploded_ ," Yukimura says, all in a rush. He looks pitifully up at them: Mitsunari pulled securely onto Kanetsugu's lap, Kanetsugu still in his battle regalia and at the sight of the blindingly white Uesugi clan raiment, tries to drown himself in the futon again. "I never want to make love ever again."

Kanetsugu chokes. "Lord Uesugi...?"

"I don't want to think about it!" Yukimura wails. "But every time I see you, I think about it and-"

"That's one way to carry on clan traditions," Mitsunari smirks, only a little breathless and flushed, entirely for reasons unaffiliated with Shingen. He was fairly inured by the many years of trauma living with both Lady Nene and Lord Hideyoshi had introduced his young mind to, from the very first realisation that his maternal figure was seen as a sexual object by 99% of the world.

The gold armor had been no help.

(Sometimes, he still has nightmares.)

"I keep on picturing it," Yukimura says sadly.

Shingen had been a very round, jovial man. Mitsunari decides not to think about it.

Kanetsugu makes a slightly strangled sound and, rallying strongly, says, "Expressions of love should not be judged."

Of course, the Uesugi clan with their somewhat eccentric clan leaders were not to be thought of lightly. Or at all, since close scrutiny of their activities was possibly mentally damaging.

Yukimura whimpers pitifully.

Mitsunari rolls his eyes and, still held securely on Kanetsugu's lap, reaches out and grabs Yukimura's hair, yanking him close. "They were good men," he says, pulling Yukimura so they're face to face. "But given you're in my bed right now, shouldn't you focus on me?"

"But-" Yukimura protests but Mitsunari loops an arm around his neck and pulls him in so their noses rub. Kanetsugu's chuckle is warm and deep, one large hand settling on the warm curve of Yukimura’s back.

"I'll be nice," Mitsunari husks, soft. "You can also think of _us_."

In the ensuing activities, Yukimura forgets about everything but the three of them, still alive in the midst of war.


End file.
